


Forget-Me-Not

by ignipes



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-01-22
Updated: 2006-01-22
Packaged: 2017-10-03 03:04:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ignipes/pseuds/ignipes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is how the stories are supposed to go: the hero stops the evil witch, kills the dragon, and rescues the girl. Bellatrix has never had much use for those stories.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forget-Me-Not

There is a spider crawling toward her. An ugly thing, fat body with sharp brown markings. She can hear it creeping, so silent is the fortress today. Gangly hairy legs -- _tap tap tap_ \-- perhaps it is hoping to surprise her.

Slowly, slowly, she walks her hand toward the spider. Five thin fingers, five long nails -- _tap tap tap_ \-- across the cold stone.

-

That's not how the story goes, Andromeda says, hands on hips, lower lip jutting out. Cissy is sniffling and red-eyed. She wipes her nose on her sleeve, and Andromeda scowls in disgust.

Yes, it is, Bella answers, lifting her chin and tossing the book aside. Oh, stop crying, Cissy. He was just a stupid man. The story is much better this way.

He was the hero, Andromeda insists. Don't worry, Cissy. Bella has it all wrong. In the real story he kills the witch and the dragon and kisses the princess and rescues her and when they get married she wears flowers in her hair.

I'm tired of stories, Bella says, and jumps to her feet. Let's go out to the stable and play with the kittens.

-

She has a long, thin plait of red hair. She keeps it coiled in the pocket of her robe, wrapped around her forefinger as he speaks to her, pulling it tighter and tighter.

Don't move, he says. His voice is unsteady; his wand, pointed at her, is trembling.

She smiles. It should probably bother her, that he is here. The Dark Lord will not be pleased.

Have you lost your way? she asks. A nice boy like you, all alone in a place like this.

She imagines the tiny cord of hair tightening until the tip of her finger turns blue, slicing into the numb flesh, cutting the final joint away.

Don't move, he says again. I know that Volde--

Do be quiet, she says.

He falls silent, watching her warily.

She steps forward. She touches the side of his face, tracing the line of his jaw with her finger, brushing the stolen lock of hair along his skin. He flinches from her touch but does not back away.

She whispers, Did you miss me? _Imperio._ I missed you, too. I'm so glad we can be alone.

-

You are a woman now, her mother says, vanishing the blood with a flick of her wand.

Yes, Mother.

There was no need to call me. The house-elves are quite capable of cleaning it up.

Yes, Mother.

But I suppose this time need not be wasted. Sit down, Bella, and I will tell you about men.

Mother--

Sit down, Bella. You are a foolish girl, and I will not have you grow into a foolish woman, opening your legs for every man who glances your way.

Yes, Mother.

-

The spider stops, no more than a foot from her face, and she smiles.

You must have lost your way, she says gently. This is no place for living things.

-

She stuns the midwife and drags the woman's unconscious body into a cupboard. A single grey hair from the woman's head, a swallow of Polyjuice, stooping and creeping and kindly smiles, and nobody stops her as she walks through the hospital.

The room full of babies is easy to find. Soft sounds, pink and blue, powder scents, tiny hands. She scowls and reads the name cards quickly.

Blue, of course, a first-born son. _Potter, Harry James._

With the old midwife's gnarled finger she traces the name, then leans over the crib and examines the child. He looks like a baby, wrinkled and red and rather ugly, nothing familiar.

I brought you a flower, she says, swishing her wand and transfiguring the name card into a vibrant blue and yellow blossom. She sets the flower beside the baby's head, then touches his warm cheek, presses her fingers over his tiny lips. I hope you like flowers, she says.

That's the Potter boy, such a sweet baby.

She whips her hand away from his face and spins around to face the Healer. Oh, oh, yes, she says, stammering like she has seen the old midwife do. Lovely boy. Looks just like his father.

-

Quick as a snake, her hand flashes across the stone and closes over the spider.

Ah. Mine.

The creature struggles in her hand, tickling her palm. She rolls onto her back and holds it up, examining it in the weak sunlight that shines through the iron bars.

He loves me, she says, plucking one of its legs. He loves me not.

Somewhere, through the honeycomb maze of corridors, a prisoner begins to scream.

He loves me.

The spider stops struggling, but she still holds it tight, digging her fingernails into its soft body.

He loves me not.

Always, always, one scream leads to another, and another, and another.

He loves me. He loves me not.

-

You shouldn't upset her like that, Andromeda says. She's just a little girl.

She shouldn't believe in stupid stories, Bella replies. Cissy is with them in the stables, but she is at the other end of the building, talking to one of the horses and still crying like a baby. Bella kicks through the hay. I saw the kittens yesterday, she says, glaring at her sister accusingly. They were here yesterday.

I think you're jealous, Andromeda says, smiling a mean little smile. You're jealous because Cissy is prettier than you. Everybody says so.

That's stupid.

And if the stories were true, she would be the one the hero rescued and kissed and married.

That's stupid, Bella says again, I'm not -- oh, there they are. She smiles and drops to her knees, and whispers, there you are. The kittens look up at her with wide, innocent eyes.

-

He loves me. He loves me not.

Eight legs. She frowns, then rolls again, onto her hands and knees, and crawls awkwardly across the stone toward the corridor. She settles against the metal bars and reaches out, stretching around the stone wall between the cells.

Oh, my dear, I have something for you, she calls, her sing-song voice blending with the distant screams. Darling cousin, my darling, I have a gift for you.

No response.

Do you miss him? she asks, pressing her face against one of the rough metal bars. You must miss him, I know you loved him dearly. So very brave and heroic.

Still, silence. She wonders if he is gone, if they took him in the night, dark cloaks and rattling breaths and empty bodies.

Heroes aren't supposed to die, she says. But he did, and they said it was a tragedy.

A quiet scrape, a rough breath.

Do you know, he gave me flowers once? And a kiss, such a sweet kiss, a summer kiss--

The screams stop abruptly, and the fortress is silent.

A growl like waves dragging on a rocky shore: Go to hell, Bella.

She opens her hand and drops the spider's legless body just inside his cell. I brought you a flower, she says.


End file.
